In just about three years and three albums, Boston-based “murder pop” underground outfit Crippling Alcoholism have carved themselves a unique niche in which they have rapidly been evolving and earning the full attention of a devoted following originating from broad and eclectic backgrounds. Which is testament to the wide appeal of their music even though on paper, this shouldn’t work beyond the confines of very specific underground sub-genres. And yet, in spite of the mathcore and acid jazz roots of the project and the repulsive nature of the topics they tend to tackle with their art; Crippling Alcoholism seem capable of taking the filthiest aspects of human nature and turning horror into velvety songs with pop sensibilities that ensnare the ears with dangerous efficiency.
Although CAMGIRL is their most hook-centric and synth-heavy work thus far, that doesn’t mean they’ll be opening for Sabrina Carpenter anytime soon either. The band’s signature way of instantly creating a sense of uneasiness through ominous dissonance and sudden shifts in song structure equaling to auditive manic meltdowns, keeping listeners on their toes, is still very much a part of their sound. There’s a reason Portrayal Of Guilt picked them to join the roster of their independent label after all. It’s just that now, echoing the many unsavoury yet oddly charismatic fictional characters they use as vessels to tell their disturbing stories, the music itself is much more nuanced and complex on this new record.
The album’s grotesque artwork reflects that balance between comfort and disturbing oddity. The neon pink may appear inviting, perhaps even soothing from a distance, but upon closer inspection, one cannot help but be puzzled, grossed out or even horrified by the uncanny and obscene figure staring back with sadistic glee or harrowing torment depending on how you interpret it. For every catchy vocal hook or lush synth and keys arrangement is a violent or desperate outburst of harsher vocals, 808’s or frantic disembodied drumming hammering in the unsettling reality of what bubbles beneath the surface of accessible and tantalizing beauty.
These contrasts not only embody the different traits of the various characters that exist within CAMGIRL, but also the thematical pillar for the album’s overall atmosphere ; the world of sex-workers and especially in the digital realm. But the album doesn’t necessarily focus on sex-workers themselves, it doesn’t seek to glamorise or chastise. Rather, it continues to explore the idea of control which was already present in both previous albums, although in different settings. Whether that may be the control lust as an addiction and its pursuit has over a specific character or the impersonal sadistic control another character may feel knowing there’s a human being on the other side of their screen they can toy with and humiliate in exchange for money.
Quietly making waves in Bristol’s experimental underground, Lawi Anywar has been forging a sound unlike any other for the last few years, combining the deep bass and falsetto vocals of Funkadelic and Thundercat with math and shoegaze influences pulled from acts like Delta Sleep and Slowdive. Now, on his second full length album Centenarian, Anywar takes his sound to slick new heights, delving deeper into his more experimental side while preserving the memorable funk-rock rhythms that make his work so accessible.
From the very first synth arpeggios of the opening title track it’s clear that Centenarian is coming from a place of wild experimentation, bringing together a mish-mash of varied sounds into a listenable, funk-tinged package. Building up around a consistent bass grove, ‘Centenarian’ launches retro synths and driving percussion alongside choppy guitars and a mournful fiddle solo into each other in an ever-shifting whirlpool of conflicting sounds which should seem confusing and discordant but instead mesh together into a memorable and danceable odyssey. This opening track reveals Anywar’s greatest strength, the ability to take so many seemingly opposing tropes of different genres and piece them together into something intriguing and memorable.
Chaos can be, and is a beautiful thing. Music that is entrenched in an unpredictability almost volatile is beloved by many. Indeed, the base level of metalcore is inhabited by bands who hold their erratic nature to their chests, as almost a badge of honour and for that, they are praised, revered and in many cases, deeply beloved.
For the last two years, Long Goodbye, a band who rose from the ashes of acts like the influential Bloodfury, have planted their flag as one of the most exciting acts in ‘core music in the UK today. A blend of On Broken Wings and Norma Jean, they’ve taken the scene by storm with their aggressive, scathing approach to the genre. This incendiary nature is spearheaded by vocalist Patrick Morton, who’s range of banshee shrieks and almost vomitous gutterals are to crowdkillers what cocaine is to people who work finance.
On their debut EP, they gave no quarter in their approach, sounding relatively fully formed from the off in their bewildering, whiplash inducing brand of sonic assault. Things haven’t so much undergone a full evolution here on to reconcile with death for the sake of a beautiful ending, more a refinement and a strengthening of elements. The guitars have gotten wilder and sharper, honed to prick your ears in an uncomfortable way while still pulling you into the chaos and the drums hit like wild gunfire whistling past your ears. On tracks like ‘fix the memory’ they channel previous track ‘autolosis’ but turn up insanity to eye popping levels. Much like Norma Jean, it’s awe-inspiring to hear the level of technical skill on display while simultaneously undergoing an aural assault akin to instruments being beaten to within an inch of their life.
A sense of urgency is what brought La Dispute back together to write what could be the most recognisable album the band ever wrote while also at the same time being one of the most ambitious of their projects. Since the members are based in different countries, the band decided to produce the entire album themselves working between Michigan, the UK, Australia and the Philippines, and yet, somehow, the result of all this is a sound more unified than ever.
The album’s title comes from a newspaper article the frontman saw about a self-driving car crashing in a cul-de-sac and killing its passengers, which blossomed in his mind as a very apt metaphor for modern life, reckoning with malaise in the face of an impending technological apocalypse. The album covers themes of technology and the idea many have of its benevolence, while also examining ideas of everyday malaise and how people use technology, amongst other things, as a crutch.
This formed the basis of a conceptual narrative across the record mirroring the structure of a film – a big influence was First Reformed – with a narrative split into five acts. The choice of slowly realising act by act leading up to the full release was a well-thought concept because this is an album that can be difficult to digest in one sitting. With more than 60 minutes of music, No One Was Driving The Car is a project filled with many different approaches to song writing, that moves the listener intensively through the narrative and it needs to be assimilated with intention.
Let’s be honest: they’re great at it. A decade of satire, relatable lyricisms and bop choruses has made them one of emo’s great success stories of the last 10 years. The quintet have never taken themselves too seriously (a staple of the contemporary genre they find themselves in) and thus, you’d expect The Sound A Body Makes When It’s Still to follow the same tact. In some ways, your assumptions would be correct.
When you mix the earnest nature of the album title with the solemn, almost morose tones of opener ‘Moving to Bed Bug Island’ you’re left wondering exactly what type of step this is about to be. Let’s not mix our words: the delicate nature of the track blends well with Tades’ lush vocal tones, but it undeniably raises the question of just how seriously Hot Mulligan are about to take this next 45 minutes, as well as the following effect.
What follows throughout the record is almost the ideal answer to the aforementioned question. While Hot Mulligan have clearly grown as songwriters, they know what bought them to the dance. ‘Mix Master Wade On The Beat’ spotlights the songwriting knack of guitarists Chris Freeman and Ryan Malisci as they soundtrack Tades’ eschewed pain and discomfort with a sumptuous backdrop of melancholic tonality. A vocal refrain of “I don’t know better” displays vocal vulnerability unlike we’ve heard from the band before, but the five piece sound right at home.
In fact, it has hung around them so much that it’s probably not even a compliment anymore. The fact remains though that had the Canadian duo been born 10 years prior, we’d possibly be discussing them with a heroic like reverence.
Temporal mistiming aside, The Dirty Nil have been at the artistic forefront of rock n roll over the past decade. Blurring the increasingly complex line between tongue-in-cheek lyrics, hard riffs and bop choruses. Their fifth offering The Lash finds them in new territory though. Their satirism that ran through 2021’s Fuck Art has been toned down; the self-reflection found on 2023’s Free Rein to Passions has taken a back seat also. Instead, TDL use their latest offering to lift the curtain on how the thing they love harms them.
Purposefully paradoxical, The Lash refuses to use euphemisms or even metaphors to hide how Luke Bentham and Kyle Fisher adore and despise the landscape of the contemporary music industry. The thick bass line opening of ‘Rock N Roll Band’ quickly succumbs to the gun-against-your-head question “So you wanna be in a rock n roll band?” Before reminding you that “someone else is getting rich, not you” on its high octane chorus. Transparency appears to the aim though as Bentham expertly controls the refrain of “it’s what you gotta do”.
